


the red in your eyes

by 4beit



Category: Charlie's Angels (2019), Charlie's Angels (Movies)
Genre: Other, Processing Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21687175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4beit/pseuds/4beit
Summary: you slink into her room late one night, the penultimate night of your stay in chicago. she hears you, of course, greeting you with a gentle “i was wondering when you were going to come chat.”her voice filters out from the walk-in closet, and you lean back onto the duvet with a sigh,of course she knows.
Relationships: Rebekah Bosley & Sabina Wilson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 103





	the red in your eyes

on the scale of fucked up things you’ve partaken in or born witness to over the last near three decades of your life, nearly getting crushed to death by some boulder grinder sits pretty high on the list. it’s not that you were afraid in the moment – only sickened when the goon trying to kill you met a grisly end. instead, the sheer nightmare of the situation only started to sink in afterwards, in chicago. you found yourself shirking away from the sound of a blender and being plagued by nightmares you had long since left behind. 

or so you thought. 

and sure, saint is present, and he can tell that you’re not feeling 100% - but to him, you chalk it up to having a pillar collapse on your leg. the reasons why you find yourself unable to tell him the truth are mystifying to say the least. it’s not like saint won’t have plenty of wise words for you to take to heart, but there’s some part of you that isn’t sure he would understand. in fact, you can only think of one person who might begin to understand. 

bosley. 

you slink into her room late one night, the penultimate night your stay in chicago. she hears you, of course, greeting you with a gentle “i was wonder when you were going to come chat.” 

her voice filters out from the walk-in closet, and you lean back onto the duvet with a sigh, 

of course she knows. 

“well,” you tilt your head up, looking down the length of your body to watch bosley emerge “i had to wrap my head around it. how did you know?” 

“saint talked to me.” she says easily, emerging dressed as down as you’ve ever seen her – sweatpants and a t-shirt for a college she’s definitely never attended. 

“oh.” you frown “sure. cool, cool, cool.” 

you watch bosley sit down onto the bed next to you “he’s concerned.” she points out “and to make a point, so am i.” 

“i’m fine.” you say, and watch her raise a skeptical eyebrow “i am.” you reiterate “it’s just,” you pause “look, when you were off, being all covert, shit went down.” 

bosely knows, or rather she heard the brunt of what you all had to go through back in the warehouse. knowing that helps in some sort of way, but at the same time she wasn’t there. on top of that she’s read your report, but you glazed over the details around nearly being ground into so much blood and bone dust. which means, 

“there was this rock grinding machine thing, i got thrown into it.” you swallow hard, feeling a knot tense in your stomach “it was a rock and a hard place.” you say humourlessly “and elena was fending off a goon of her own. jane was off with hodak and-” you shudder, words failing you. 

bosley’s hand covers your own, silent support as you stare fixedly at the ceiling trying to gather yourself and find a semblance of control over your emotions “it was fine in the end. i didn’t think anything of it. not until it was all done and we were here and apparently being stuck in that thing has freaked me the fucked out.” 

“you watched a man get pulverised.” bosley points out “that’s different than someone being killed by a gunshot or a well-placed punch.” 

“i mean sure,” you concede “but i don’t, i don’t know. people die all the time around us, collateral damage. but this, it was like, no matter how much i fought i still was one wrong step away from being ground by that thing. i couldn’t get out, it, it fucking sucked.” you sigh, shocked by the tears stinging your eyes 

“maybe it was hitting a little too close to home,” bosley suggest “reminds you of what it was like when you were younger, more reckless. unable to escape on your own, fighting and fighting but just one step away from something worse.” 

you bite your lip hard. crying isn’t something you do on a regular basis. or rather, real, deep chested crying isn’t something that you do on a regular basis. in fact you’re so completely taken by surprise at the upswelling of emotions, sitting up and curling your arms around your waist. you force steadying breaths “you may be on to something there.” you say, vying for humor but falling short. 

bosley’s hand skates across your shoulders, pulling you into her side “you can let it out.” she says “don’t fight it, sabina.” 

this touch, her words – they are all achingly familiar. a throwback to your early days. 

you were not so different from jane in those days, less than inclined to work within the confines of a team. you spent months running from a past you’d left behind only in the physical sense. in your darkest moments in what was supposed to be a newer, better life, bosley had been the one who dug you out. she was the one who saw past your shenanigans and your half attempts at distancing yourself from everyone else in your new world. she was the one who helped you past those dark days. 

she’s the one you keeps you close now. 

“let it out.” she coaxes, and you are helpless to stop the tears “it’s okay. you’re okay.” 

and you are okay, that much is true. 

you feel far from okay. you feel vulnerable and exposed and caught unaware by the lurking demons of your past that rear their ugly heads. you’re caught on the sound of boulders being crushed into dust and the adrenaline coursing through your veins at elena’s words of 

_“stay to the sides,”_

as if you hadn’t already figured that out. as if you weren’t already fighting for your life with a goon who wanted nothing more than to throw you into the soon-to-be-pulverised rubble. you hear the grinding of metal against stone, you feel your lungs choking on the thick dust rising. your eyes are screwed shut, you’re curling in on yourself and yet – 

_“sabina,”_ the single word cuts through your haze and you cling to it _“sabina, you just need to breathe.”_

bosley. 

she’s pulled you out of memories worse than this, held while you’ve cried harder than this. 

but it has been a long while since those days, since these times. 

her comfort works all the same. 

her words cut through the haze of panic and onslaught of memories. she speaks sure and strong, comfort woven through each time she speaks _“sab,”_ she says _“sab, you just need to keep breathing. you need to steady your breathing.”_ actions match words and bosley uses her hand to guide your unwieldy breathing. 

it doesn’t go unnoticed that she calls you sab, 

one of the few to do so and not get a dirty look for it. 

it takes long, long minutes for your breathing to steady enough for the room around you to come into some sort of focus. your hands feeling tingly, distant and when you flex your fingers they feel uncoordinated and slow. the effect doesn’t scare you, instead it gives you something to focus on. that and the way bosley’s hand takes one of your own “keep breathing for me.” she says, thumb moving in small circles along the back of your hand 

“i-” you start “fuck.” you exhale, elbows resting onto your thighs and head dropping forward. 

“hey,” bosley says, “hey, none of that.” 

“i’m not,” you shake your head “it’s not,” you shrug, leaning your head into bosley shoulder and letting words fail you. 

there’s a fragile stability to your sense of well-being in this moment. you’re exhausted and wired at the same time. memories feel at the edge of your mind, a roiling darkness that threatens to flood your present once again. you feel bosley extricate her hand from your own and curl it around your back, pulling you into her side “you’re okay.” she says softly “this is okay.” 

she knows what to say, more than anyone else in your life. 

you lean into her side, one arm curling around her waist “i’d be shit at this without you.” you say, speaking to bosley but looking at the hardwood flooring. 

“no, you wouldn’t.” she counters softly “you’d have figured it out, eventually.” 

“eventually. that is the key word.” 

to that, bosley says nothing – instead letting a silence fall in the room “you must be exhausted.” she says. 

“yeah,” you say quietly “wrecked.” 

“stay with me.” bosley offers “if you want.” 

it’s happened before, back when the worst of your past was in uprising. you partake in this sharing of space wherein you can sleep without fear of your demons consuming you. 

you take bosley up on her offer tonight, curling into her side and dozing off to the sound of whatever new tv show she’s working her way through. 

it’s not a fix, but it's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> listen, they will process their trauma. 
> 
> i saw the movie for a second time and it was just as amazing this time around. 
> 
> let me know what you thought of this piece!


End file.
